


Hold Onto Me

by babbyspanch



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Anthology, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pining, Snowball Fight, University AU, Unrequited Crush, discussion of freckles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7063036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbyspanch/pseuds/babbyspanch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of drabbles from my tumblr that various darlings have requested.</p><p>chapter one- Lolix university au based on the post where a kid pours monster into his coffee and downs it.<br/>chapter two- Tuckington set during season 11, Wash overhears Caboose and Tucker talking about his freckles.<br/>chapter three- Grimmons set during bgc, Grif has written a kind of shameful amount of songs that Simmons was never, ever supposed to see. Guess what happens next.<br/>chapter four- Tuckington set in the distant future, idiots having a snowball fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Locus didn’t startle easily. 

He had trained in sports where control over your body was paramount and he was taught by his father that flinching was for the weak. If your body responded to something without your brains consent you were helpless to its whims and where not in true control.

And true control was paramount.

So no, Locus didn’t startle.

But when 160 pounds of miserable white boy slammed itself down in the seat beside  him one Tuesday at eight in the morning he did do a double take.

The kids’ head lolled back against the hard plastic of the seat he had chosen with a soft ‘thunk’ and Locus watched from the corner of his eyes as he grunted and flopped his backpack on the table.

He said nothing. Locus never said anything unless he knew what the repercussions would be.

Locus couldn’t deny his confusion and mounting curiosity as the man beside him shook rain out of his hair and plopped his cardboard coffee cup on the table before rummaging around in his backpack and pulling out a toxic looking energy drink.

Turning to him the kid popped the tab and it let out an evil sounding hiss before he locked eyes with Locus.

“Hi. My name is Felix. I’m going to die.” 

Locus slowly raised an eyebrow as Felix turned and dumped the green contents of the can into his coffee cup and with zero hesitation gulped it down. 

Locus watched the man suppress a full body shudder. The taste in his mouth must have been unbearable.

Maybe– Locus thought as Felix turned to grin lopsidedly at him, already about a hundred times more operational after drinking the sludge– Maybe he could find a use for this person in his life. He obviously didn’t mind the distasteful.

“I’m Locus.” He said quietly, and extended a hand.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey Caboose, what do you think of Wash?” Tuckers voice rose from the kitchen, scratchy in the way it always was before he had his coffee.

Washington froze with one foot in the air. Slowly he lowered it back to the ground and took a step away from the open doorway. He had been coming to gab some coffee for himself but… Wash was the last person to suggest he was above eavesdropping. Especially when his teammates where gossiping about him.

“I think he is straight forward and commanding and also very spotty. But also pretty nice.”

“…Spotty?” Washington hissed under his breath. What was that supposed to mean? Was Caboose making a veiled comment on his consistency--? 

“Oh- his freckles?” Wash could hear the shift of cloth on cloth, Tucker must have sat up. It also meant he wasn’t wearing his armor, even though it was nine in the morning and Wash had posted the strict schedule last night about when everyone was expected to be up. Which included dressed. Wash huffed and rolled his eyes.

Caboose hummed, sounding a little distracted. Tucker didn’t seem to notice.

“He does have a lot of those, doesn’t he?” There was another pause. Washington moved to step into the doorway again but stopped when Tucker spoke.

“You know my mom used to talk about freckles… Said they were in the place that caused your death in your last life.”

Washington’s chest tightened, his armor suddenly feeling heavy on his shoulders.

“That would mean Agent Washington has died a lot.” Caboose said, interest returned to the conversation. He sounded concerned, and Wash couldn’t help but be a little touched at tone in his voice.“I don’t like that idea, really. My sister told me freckles were every place someone you loved kissed you! I think that ones nicer, really.”

“You’re right… it is.” Now Tucker sounded distracted. “Someone that loved you or someone you loved? Like what if someone you didn’t love kissed you, would you still get a freckle?”

“I don’t know if it really matters which way the love is going. Just as long as it’s there.” Caboose made pleased noise, “And that would just mean that either a load of people love Wash, or one person loves him a lot and kissed him all over!”

Tucker chuckled. “Bow chicka bow wow.”

And that was Wash’s cue. 

He strode into the room before he could linger on any thoughts of people kissing his freckles. “Why are neither of you dressed yet? I told you training would start at nine thirty.”

“And it’s nine o'clock.” Tucker looked up, his mouth grinning, but not meeting Washington’s eyes. Wash tried to not notice how far away Tucker looked. “We have half an hour to put on our armor before we’re late.”

Washington huffed and crossed his arms, deciding he might as well have breakfast with everyone. He sat down and waited a few minutes for his blush to die down before he took off his helmet.


	3. Chapter 3

When Grif walked into his room and saw Simmons sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by loose papers his first instinct was to make an ‘old-fashioned’ joke and then flop onto his cot for a well deserved nap.

Then he realized what Simmons was reading and his stomach dropped as a wave of cold fear washed over him. That snooping mother fucker.

He must have made some sort of noise aloud because Simmons looked up, startled.

“Oh, uh. Hey Grif.”

Grif blinked slowly at Simmons, his body was doing a shit job of fight or flight-ing. It appeared he was taking a more deer-in-headlights approach. His throat clicked, too dry to swallow properly. 

“This is… uh…” Simmons lifted a piece of paper, it flapped in his hand. Simmons looked at it for a moment and took a deep breath before locking eyes with Grif, “It’s gay, dude. It’s really gay.”

He still hadn’t said anything. He should be saying something.

“You’re not even going to deny…?” Simmons raised his eyebrows, confusion and shock clear on his face.

Shit he needed to say something. 

But Simmons was already talking, “So… Have you told him?”

“Told who what?” Grif managed. He still hadn’t moved any closer since he had spotted Simmons. He stood in the door awkwardly, watching the late afternoon light slant and pool around Simmons.

“Donut. That you love him. Or whatever.” Simmons flapped the sheet of paper again and Grif stared at him. 

So Simmons had somehow read seventeen different pages of scribbled lyrics about biting humor, flashing eyes, and ambition with a self-destructive edge and had thought of Franklin Delano Donut.

“Are you serious?” Grif demanded, already rewriting the lyric about ‘unmatched intelligence’ in his head. Obviously that had been a huge overstatement. He couldn’t help the rough laugh that escaped him, “No dude, I haven’t told Donut that I ‘love him or whatever’.”

“Well you should.” Simmons said, standing quickly, “You should tell him.”

Grif had to make a choice here. Either tell the truth, that every single pathetic word on those pages was about Simmons, or lie.

The choice was simple really.

“That would be dumb considering that Donut wrote those in the first place.” 

Simmons frowned and checked the papers again, “Donut knows how to play the ukulele?” 

“Nope!” Grif said cheerfully, lie suddenly clicking into place, “That’s why I have them. he wanted me to help with that.”

Simmons snorted, “and you agreed?”

Grif leaned against the door frame, “Just because I’m lazy it doesn’t mean I’m never nice, Simmons.”

Simmons looked at him skeptically.

“Anyway you should probably go now.” Grif said, moving out of the doorway, “Sarge was saying something about needing you for ordering more parts for the warthog.”

“Well why didn’t you say that first?” Simmons demanded. He strode up to Grif and shoved the paper he had been looking at into Grif’s chest. “And uh… Don’t tell Donut but… he’s better at writing than I thought he’d be.”

Grif nodded mutely as Simmons rushed out the door. He sat down heavily on his cot and smoothed out the slightly crumpled paper carefully. He passed a hand over his face and sighed. He had to get over this ridiculous crush.


	4. Chapter 4

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, god _damm_ it!” Wash yelled roughly and whirled on Tucker, the cold air biting at his ears.

Tucker had a grin smeared across his face. It was probably the happiest Wash had seen him in… a long time.

That was probably the reason why Washington did what he did next.

“You are going to regret that, private.” He growled and sunk low to the ground, grateful for his lack of armor for once. That would have made maneuvering in the snow at the very least annoying. At the very worst embarrassing. It was better to have freezing air nip at his cheeks and nose and turn his lips red then fall flat on his face because he over-balanced and slipped on ice.

Tuckers teeth glinted like the snow that gathered in waist high drifts around them. It made Wash's stomach swoop. Which was dumb, but he let himself enjoy the feeling anyway.

“I think you mean  _captain_ – or did you forget I rank higher than you again? Gosh Wash, you _must_  be getting old.”

It was an obvious taunt, but Wash lunged anyway, a high laugh escaping him as he grabbed Tucker by the shoulders. Using his momentum Wash swung them both into the nearest snow bank, obscuring the world into white for a half second. The indignant squawk next to his ear was exactly the response Wash had been hoping for.

What Wash hadn’t really put together was that Tucker had motivations other than being an asshole. Every once in a while, anyway. Today was one of those rare days.

As they tussled in the snow– letting out undignified screeches at the freezing air and seeping damp– they both held a sense of accomplishment tight in their hearts.

Making the other smile seemed harder then it had any right being. And today was a rare glimpse into what living easier could be like. And it seemed pretty okay to the both of them. Maybe even something worth trying for. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> if y'all have nay requests my URL is grimmonsed feel free to come scream w me


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